


i would scream (but they have places for people who scream)

by TheBizarreHairTrio



Category: The Lobby
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Crows, Dark Judas (The Lobby), Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Gen, Misgendering, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Graphic Violence, Soul-Sucking, and isn't meant to be seen as a kiss, because this is definitely not canon, don't read if living creatures climbing out of people disturb you, gods this is actually pretty disturbing, i associate judas with crows and i'm not apologizing for it, implied - Freeform, is that even a thing now???, it's like one, no other characters are mentioned, or even remotely related to canon, puking, unintentional and also not malicious, well they are darker than usual so, you know like dementors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBizarreHairTrio/pseuds/TheBizarreHairTrio
Summary: Judas is not a very good person, and their actions are very telling. (Also, there's mildly supernatural crows.)
Kudos: 1





	i would scream (but they have places for people who scream)

_What is life?_

They roll the apple in their palm.

_What is death?_

They lift it up high, head tilted back.

_What is life?_

The reflection of their face in the surface stares back at them blankly.

_What is death?_

A crow alights upon their shoulder, and they barely glance at it.

"What is life?" they murmur aloud, head drooping back down as they lower their arm. "What is death?"

The crow caws, uncaring of their musings. They scoff at themselves, fingernails digging into the red skin of the apple. They sink into the flesh. Its lifeblood trickles down their arm.

They sigh, and glance down. "What is life?" they ask of the dying man, mournfully. 

The man opens his bloodied mouth. With every motion of his throat, blood gurgles out of the shallow crescent. "What... is... death..." he whispers back.

Their face softens. "What is death, indeed..." They pry open his mouth wider, and fit the dripping apple between his broken teeth. The man's empty eye sockets bore into their own.

They smile. Their fingers fit into the slit of his throat. The man dies with a gurgling breath.

They withdraw their fingers, offering them to the crow.

"I wonder..."

Their voice carries on the whisper of the wind.

"... what is evil?"

* * *

"Can I help you?" 

The man looks up from his phone and gives her a sheepish grin, tucking it away. "Ah, yes, sorry? I have an appointment with Ms. Wilks?"

Verity makes a noise of comprehension, turning to her computer screen. "Oh, you must be his 2:30, Mr..." She squints slightly at the rows of text. "Judas?"

Mr. Judas laughs in response. "Yes, that's me."

She smiles up at him, refreshed by his demeanor. "She's ready for you. Right this way..."

She waves him through, and turns back to her computer. "I wonder what he has to talk to Ms. Wilks about..."

* * *

Hilda taps away at her tablet, barely glancing up as the quiet hiss of her door opening sounded. She looks up. "It's a pleasure to meet you—"

She blinks, not seeing her visitor anywhere. She places her tablet on the table and scans the room, seeing no one. She grips her wrist. A caw echoes from the walls of her office. The flutter of wings passes by her head and she whirls around.

"No," the figure behind her desk says. "I believe it's _my_ pleasure, Hilda." A pair of crows perch on the back of the chair.

She chokes, clutching at her throat as her stomach rebels. She dry heaves, falling to her knees as she hacks and coughs, a wriggling mass lodged in her windpipe.

A gleaming eye peeks out from the hollow of her throat, and a crow emerges from inside her mouth, flying to perch upon their outstretched hand.

Hilda throws up, a mix of bile and bloodied feathers splattered across the floor and the tips of her pointed heels.

They hum, stroking the feathers of the freed bird. "What do you have for me, lovely?"

The crow caws one, twice, and coughs up something into their waiting palm. They roll it in their hand, pinching it between their thumb and index. The perfect sphere gleams a blood red, a pulsating purple core nestled in the middle. They laugh.

"To think she hid such a gem in her wicked heart," they murmur, glancing down at the humiliated woman. The crow joins its brethren, having delivered its gift, and they stand, walking over to Hilda.

They drag her up by her hair, and she cries out in pain. They smile into her face, and kiss her, tasting blood and bile as she shakes, until she shakes no more.

They drop her soulless husk, licking their lips. "Ash," they declare. "Ash, with a hint of pineapple." 

They walk away, tossing their stone up and catching it, as the doors slide open automatically. "Dinner time, my dears."

The crows descend.


End file.
